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Whispers of The Cult
The camp was alive with yells and growls that thirsted in unison. Four Orc men and an Orc woman battled in a circle of their kin. One by one they would fall, cut down with a swift slash or well-placed thrust, and the last standing would be given the necklace of bones. A new leader to replace the old. Ngark, of the Longtusks. ''Barrú recalled the beastly orc. ''Rakauns are a strong people to defeat such a monstrous warrior. “Perhaps the next one will be stronger.” Barrú pondered aloud, “And capable of taking the mountain.” The moon was waning and less than half its face was shown yet Barrú still drew strength from its bright rays; he needed it in here. He was out of place, a small man of the desert in a tribe of blood-thirsty beasts. He turned from the pit and made for his small tent at the camp's edge. The rest of the camp was abandoned in lieu of the champion battle. It would be a great dishonor to the clan if one of their kind was absent at the raising ceremony. Fortunately, I am not their kind. He moved easily through the dark camp and arrived at his tent just as the cheers of the orcs erupted louder than before. A new leader would rise with the morning sun. “A pleasant surprise for tomorrow I hope.” In the tent Barrú sat down at his table and begun writing his report to the light of a single candle. Mistress Sorora, The mountain men of the Gazing are running in fear and spies report distrust among the ruling class of Arn. Autumn City and Dracon Lake are rampant with talk of rebellion, yet Alesia remains a beacon of hope. A beacon that will soon be quenched. Our latest reports indicate the Coalition of Pirates have established an agreement with the underbelly of Verslun, this suggests the rebel forces plan to make a move against the Imperious. He dipped his quill again, considering his next words carefully. It is my deepest displeasure to report that our conquest of Rakau has fallen behind, but a new leader emerged today that I believe is ready for the task. The candle flickered, nearly going out. A shudder ran up Barrú’s back and he felt a strong unease with his current station. Our next assault will not fail. For the Mother, Barrú Barrú sealed the letter with wax and the mark of a whip with five tails. Putting the letter aside till morning he stared into the candle light, watching the flame flicker and dance before him. --- -- Sorora threw Barrú’s letter into the flames; she watched them as if seeing a new message, now alight only for her. “Send word to Barrú that he must reinforce a trail through Serpent's Valley,” She looked up from the flames and walked briskly across the floor, her long legs carrying her quickly but silent. A young man sat in the middle of the floor, briskly taking notes on a parchment. She ran her fingers through his brown hair as she passed, plucking a few hairs. “And have him send me more on this new leader.” She twisted the hair around her fingers. “Emphasize a necessity to take that mountain; I will not have those savages slow our progress.” She thought deeply of the next move her and the cult should make as she began to gather her supplies. “The Mother expects great things of me. As an extension she expects great things from all of my children as well.” She stopped her work to look back at the boy. Her eyes fixed on him, burning his soul like green fire. “Now. To report to Gi with some good news.” She said with a smile, after a long pause. “Tell her, Vantar has made contact in the north. Already he travels with the army of Death herself.” Looking back to her work she wound the hair in with a few small braided straps and only a moment later she had the straps woven into one long, elegant braid. “The Rakaun rat will soon be dead and the Sword of Maleka will belong to The Mother.” She spun around to look at the boy. He finished the notes quickly then looked up in fear but also in anticipation for what he knew was to come next. “After you deliver the letter,” She stepped slowly to the note taker on the floor. “I have a new task for you my son.” She placed the braid on the boy’s head and carefully positioned it in place. He trembled as she placed it atop his head. “Do not be afraid, my child.” The hairs within the braid lashed out and reattached to the boy’s head. Next, the straps twisted and roped themselves deeper into his hair and attached to his scalp. He fell to the side, seized in a trance of simultaneous bliss and agony. Finally, he looked up with new eyes of deep green. “Go and become one of them but remember who we are.” The boy stood up at once, bowed and left the room without a word. Sorora returned to the fire and looked deep into the glowing embers with a smile. --- -- Her eyes fixed on the floor. She felt as if she could stare at it long enough to burn a hole. Beads of sweat slowly fell from her face; each splash on the floor broke the silence of her chambers like a sudden crack of thunder. Now it is time to show Lancerus what true fear is. ''Uma’s visage filled her mind’s eye. She was holding the mask. A tremor ran up her arm. Gi spread her upright legs out and almost faltered but kept her balance. Slowly she pushed her legs back up, pointing her toes to the ceiling. ''This, my Firstborn, is Fúramn’Ina. Gi cradled her head allowing her back to drop and roll her legs down. With a push she was up and sprinting toward the wall. With a kick she pushed off the wall into a roll and then a cartwheel and into another roll. She reached a sparring bag (sack of sand and hay) across the room and greeted it with a flurry of precise punches. Fist after fist connected sending specks of fabric into the air. Next, she coupled her punches with kicks and elbows as she violently thrashed away at the lifeless bag. As she trained a young servant girl entered carrying a letter. Unnoticed she tried to gain Gi’s attention. Almost there, Matthias… Gi could still hear the cold smacks of bone on stone. She flipped backwards, planting with light feet and an aggressive stance. In two steps she was back at the bag, ending her charge with a heavy heel kick straight down. As she tore her bare foot away sand leaked from the bag and slowly piled on the floor. Without hesitation she turned to the wall, pulled down a sword, and began her dance. The servant cried louder but Gi was lost to the world. Defeated, she left the letter at the door and retreated into the hallway. Elegantly Gi moved through the room, her cuts precise and lethal to the ghosts around her. “I have tracked Malek’Reth since it left Ashen hands. I merely awaited the proper time to retrieve it.” ''Her own words echoed in the maze of her mind. Finally, the attacks stopped. Her breath was heavy and her heart beat as fast as charging horses. ''The time is now. “The time is now, Mother Uma.” Gi regained her breath and the air cooled her sweat. It was only then that she noticed the letter. Calmly she walked to the water basin. She splashed water about her face and neck before removing her tunic to rinse her body. The basin was warm, and steam rose from her shoulders into the cool room. She donned a thick robe of fox fur and let her thick black hair fall from its braid. Finally, she poured a glass of deep red and walked to the letter. The letter felt heavy in her fingers, heavy with purpose and promise. She broke the wax seal and began to read. Her eyes scanned the words quickly, looking for the news she yearned for. At the letter’s end she was left grinning. After finishing she called for the servant girl. In an instant she was there, a look of fear on her face; something that Gi truly liked about having the girl around. “We must be quick.” She said with a smile. “Inform Uma that the sword will soon be ours and ready my gear.” She laughed as she let the letter fall to the ground. “I am going to Rhivic.” --- -- - Caldin looked up as his attacker finished donning his attire. “You must have been a strong force in Leva Adium.” The attacker said as he looked to the dying man on the ground. “Pl-please… I… Please…” Caldin struggled to say; he could feel his ribs floating in his torso. “Fumna’s mercy…I beg…you.” The man leaned over and with his one good arm he effortlessly slid Caldin to a sitting position against a support beam. “Mercy?” He began with a breath. His deep voice was paralyzing. “When you reach the gate to Jerua. When you see that your Merciful mother is gone, and the Father of Judgement has fled…” He forcefully placed his hand over Caldin’s mouth and pinched his nose shut with cold fingers. Caldin whipped and struggled as his body burned with agony. Slowly his vision blurred, and he struggled for a breath that would not come. As the blackness took him the words rang in his head. “…In that moment you will realized. The Seven have truly failed you.” Category:World Lore